Monday, May 04 2020

Good morning, everyone! How is your Monday going? This is my first
morning waking up in a strange jobless bliss, which will be the norm
for the next sixteen weeks of the summer. It feels wonderful and
strange, all at the same time. And to keep the early stages of this
leave from turning into an endless spring break, I’ve decided to keep
the same wake-up hours, as tempting as it was to just turn off my
alarm and sleep however long God wills it. I’m glad I got up early,
and I’m feeling energized.

Today is a special day for other reasons. If all goes according to
plan, today will probably be Miles’ birthday. This evening at 7:30
PM, Marissa is getting induced, meaning the birth will probably happen
sometime today or tomorrow. Needless to say, I’m glad it came down to
the day we picked. We had a few close calls over the past few days,
and while we were ready to upend and leave in the middle of the night
if needed, we’re glad that we instead have the day to plan, clean,
relax, and enjoy our last day together as a family of three.

Sip. Yesterday was a good day. From the moment I woke up, our
broken oven lingered in my thoughts. I was worried about what to do
for food in the meantime. Even without our semi-daily loaf of beer
bread, the oven has been a staple in making cheap, hearty dinners with
very little effort. And after spending the morning calling around for
repair, it was becoming clear that we probably wouldn’t get to use the
oven for another few days.

So after a lot of thought, I’ve decided that we’ll adapt by leaning
into the grilling lifestyle. And with weather as nice as the stuff
we’ve been getting all week, I think that’s a good move.

I’ve had kind of a complicated relationship with my grill. For the
first leg of our marriage, grilling was just about the only time I
participated in making dinner for us. So as a result, I didn’t get a
lot of practice in the kitchen, and lacking all the know-how and
common sense you pick up from regularly making simpler meals indoors,
my grilling performance was spotty. At my best, I could pull off a
pair of steaks, a chicken, or a slab of ribs if I had to, but crippled
with a paralyzing fear of ruining the meal, I’d usually remain glued
to the grill, transfixed on the needle of the thermometer.

And of course there were a few flat-out disasters. Yesterday, we
fondly reminisced about the time I tried to make flame grilled
quesadillas with some old tortillas and mozzarrella. And wanting to
give the quesadillas a smoky flavor (as well as appear roguishly
resourceful for my young admiring wife), I collected a few tree
branches from the yard and added them to the kettle. And the meal
definitely tasted smoky - the branches, soaked with rainwater, filled
the grill with a wet, swampy smoke that made the quesadillas taste
distinctly like garbage water.

So whether I was obsessively checking the thermometer while cooking a
straight forward rib-eye, or foolishly punching above my weight class
with experimental techniques, I’ve never been happy with my grilling
game. And now, armed with a lot more cooking common sense, I’m
looking forward to taking it back up again.

After tidying up the house and putting Rodney down for a nap, I left
to go run some errands, first stopping at Home Depot. Home Depot’s
system was interesting. They had people queue up in a line outside
the store, and using a handheld clicker, an employee at the front of
the line ushered in a few people at a time. After waiting outside for
about ten minutes, I quickly pushed a cart to the grilling aisle,
snatching up four bags of charcoal, two bags of wood chunks, and a few
sleeves of heavy duty aluminum foil.

The next stop was Hy-Vee. Hy-Vee has been handling the quarantine
well. They’re fully stocked of everything that was depleted in the
first wave of panic shopping. The one-way arrows on the ground, while
a little intimidating at first, now feel pretty intuitive. It also
helped that the store was mostly empty. With ease, I grabbed milk,
eggs, some cans of tomatoes, and everything else that was on our
grocery list. I also gathered one final haul of beer, focusing on
Marissa’s favorites. I picked up a six pack of Fantasy Factory as
well as a four pack of Pseudo Sue.

Back at home, Marissa and I put the groceries away, and with a half
hour before Rodney’s nap expired, we played catch with the football
while the grill heated up. Seeing us from his bedroom window, Rodney
asked through the baby monitor if he could join us, and soon after we
were all hanging in the backyard as a family before I broke away to
finish dinner.

For dinner, we had a juicy pair of steaks, some roasted red peppers,
and some baked potatoes with cheddar and sour cream. After cleaning
up, I decided to stoke the embers into a bonfire, using some sticks I
collected from the backyard.

“Hey dude, come here!” I called into the house, leaning into the
kitchen.

“Of all times, now he’s just content and playing with his toys,”
said Marissa. “I’ll get him.”

Rodney ran outside, still struggling to step into his bright red
Spider-Man shoes. “Check it out, dude,” I said gesturing at the fire.

“WooooOOOaaaahhhh,” said Rodney, making his way over to the fire. As
he sat, he winced in pain. “Ouch, dada. Hot.”

“That’s right dude, check it out, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a
bonfire before,” I said.

“Fire is dangerous! Never play with it,” said Marissa leaning outside
from the kitchen.

“But it’s also interesting,” I added. Marissa glared at me. “What?”
I said. “It’s dangerous, and interesting. We can teach both of
those things simultaneously.”

Marissa joined us at the fire, Ziggy leaping into her lap for a
snuggle. “Dudes,” said Marissa, “this is probably our last night as a
family of three. What do you think of that?”

“Yeah, Rodney. Are you excited about being a big brother?” I asked,
leaning into Rodney. But the moment of reflection was lost on Rodney,
who just fidgeted in his chair.

“Rodney, baby Miles is coming out tomorrow, dude,” I repeated.

“BABY MILES?” shouted Rodney. He stood up on his chair and put his
head next to Marissa’s stomach. “HEY BABY MILES? YOU COMING OUT OF
THERE?” he yelled.

I put Rodney to bed, and as part of our usual round of evening
questions, I tried one last time to get Rodney to reflect on what was
going on.

“Dude,” I said. “What is baby Miles going to look like? What color
do you think his eyes will be?”

Rodney leaned back into his pillow and stared up thoughtfully at the
ceiling, taking a few seconds to gather his thoughts.

“I think his eyes…”, he began. “His eyes will be… yellow.”

“Yellow?” I asked.

“Yellow… and glow red. And shoot red. And glow yellow.” Rodney
held his hands to his face like a pair of goggles.

“Rodney, are you talking about mutant eyes, like Cyclops? From
X-men?” I asked.

“YES! X-MEN! EYES GLOW RED AND SHOOT RED,” he shouted.

It was worth a try. Thanks for stopping by today. Have a great
Monday today.